BUT SERIOUSLY: The 411 on the Paul Beeston signing

Beeston's mandate was to find a permanent replacement for his predecessor, Paul Godfrey, by the start of spring training 2009. But spring training came and went, as did the beginning of the season, and the All-Star game and then the end of the Jays' season, and alas, Beeston was still looking.

It seemed like the search would go on forever.

Then out of the blue last week came the news that, lo and behold, he had finally found his man. Hallelujah! What's more, though his exhaustive 54-week journey took him all over the sports globe, it turns out the guy he was looking was in his very own backyard all the time. His name - wait for it - Paul Beeston.

Yes, folks, THAT Paul Beeston. The sneak. He was talking to himself all along.

And just how long had that rascal been talking to himself?

Well, we'll probably never know for sure, unless either the interim Beeston or the permanent Beeston comes out with an autobiography. But one suspects the discussions began in earnest when former GM J.P. Ricciardi announced he was shopping pitching ace Roy Halladay around. There's no doubt that when diehard Blue Jay fans heard the disturbing news, that's when they started talking to themselves.

But, I digress. The bigger issue here is how the heck such a high profile public figure was able to keep his own pursuit under wraps for as long as he did.

The answer was simple: by being as sly as a fox.

According to sources, he met with himself in places guaranteed to provide anonymity. His favourite such locale? Argo games.

What better spot in the city for a secret rendezvous, right? The Rogers Centre stands are as desolate as the Tundra when the double blue is playing. It was the consummate hideout.

Another off-the-beaten-track place he frequented for close encounters with himself was Leaf games. Now, I know at first blush that might seem like a rather unlikely choice to seek anonymity considering the ACC is packed to the rafters every night, slow start or not. Ah, but that's where the cunning Beeston's real genius comes in to play, insiders say.

You see, when he wanted to arrange a surreptitious tête-à-tête he'd show up for only the first 10 minutes of the second or third periods and plunk himself smack dab in the middle of the platinum section. There's never anybody in those seats during that time. Nobody ever knew he was there. It was a brilliant sleight of hand. They'll one day be teaching it in the business schools.

The one puzzling thing in all of this, however, is the timing of his appointment. Why intrude on the World Series? Wouldn't spring training be the more sensible launch period?

Well, it's because the usually careful Beeston accidentally slipped up, I'm afraid. You see, he was out having a seemingly innocent dinner at Alice Fazooli's, at a table for one, or so everybody there thought anyway.

Alas, when the meal ended and the bill arrived, he made a terrible gaffe. He accidentally asked the waiter for separate cheques. Oops. The cat was now officially out of the bag. He had no choice but to go public with his hiring.

Think of it as a rookie mistake.

An interim rookie, that is.